


Anchors, Aweigh

by WardsAreFunctioning



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, F/M, Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor Isabela, Isabela being Isabela (Dragon Age), No relationships yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-11-02 00:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10933509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardsAreFunctioning/pseuds/WardsAreFunctioning
Summary: Admiral Isabela abandoned Kirkwall and Hawke to the Qunari seven years ago, never to return. After a friend calls in a favor, she ends up at the Conclave, hoping to steal the Urn of Andraste.Things... don't exactly go as planned.----“You know this woman?” the one named Cassandra asked. Leliana’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak.“Oh, yes,” Isabela said, a smirk threatening to crack her dry lips. “Rather well, in fact.” She struggled against a shackle needlessly. “Though as I recall, last time we saw each other, you were the one tied up.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not using a beta for this work, so please let me know if you catch any errors. Otherwise, enjoy! 
> 
> If there's anything you'd like to see, feel free to request it. This is supposed to be a bit of fun and silliness, and I'm always open to feedback.

Isabela awoke with a splitting headache, the inability to move any of her limbs, and a mouth drier than the Blight-ridden desert. _And_ in a kneeling position, which, admittedly, was not the first time, but it certainly raised some questions. She tried to open her eyes. _That_ was a mistake. The pressure in her skull doubled as the dark room began to spin and her head lolled forward.

 _This is one beast of a hangover_ , she thought, her eyelids shutting in defeat. After a few seconds, she tried to move again, her muscles twitching in protest as she did. At the very least, she needed to find something to drink. Preferably, something to _drink_ , but at present she wouldn’t be too picky. She tugged harder at her arms.

It was at that moment that she realized she was being held down by shackles. And not the fun kind. Opening her eyes again, she glanced at her right hand, finding it chained to the floor.

She was in a dungeon.

“Crap,” she muttered. Had the Qunari found her? Castillon?

 _Hawke_?

She wasn’t sure which option sounded the least appealing.

An angry voice interrupted her thoughts. “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you right now.”

Isabela forced her head up to look at the woman through thick, greasy strands of her hair. Livid brown eyes stared at her, fixed above a scowl that brought back less than fond memories of Meredith Stannard. She gazed at the symbol on the woman’s chest. A Seeker of Truth. She’d bedded one of those in Antiva once. The only truth _there_ was that the man was a disappointment in both bed and conversation. At least he'd been too dense to notice when she took his coinpurse.

This one was Nevarran, by her accent. _Also not the fun kind_ , she decided.

“The Conclave is destroyed,” the woman continued. “Everyone who attended is dead.” She levelled Isabela with a glare. “Except you.”

 _The Conclave_. Of course. Bits and pieces were coming back to her now. The Divine had planned for negotiations between the mages and templars. Or peace talks. Something like that. Isabela hadn’t really paid attentions to the smaller details. The important thing was that it meant the Chantry had flung open the doors to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, allowing hundreds of stray Thedosians access to a place that was normally off-limits.

A place that--rumor had it--still held the Urn of Andraste.

Isabela then realized the implications of the Seeker’s words. The Divine was dead, and hundreds more. _She_ was the only suspect. This time, when she tugged at her chains, it was with more force, but they still did not budge.

She _had_ to stop promising people ancient relics. It honestly got her into the worst messes.

“Answer me, Trevelyan!” the woman snapped.

 _Trevelyan_. For a moment, she wavered on whether she should correct her. When she’d reached the temple, she’d given them the name of a noble lover she’d left in back Ostwick, assuming _Pirate Admiral_ was not the sort of title that made the Chantry’s shortlist for invitations. Surely there were benefits to staying a Trevelyan while in Chantry custody, but she also suspected they’d let her go more quickly if they realized she wasn’t connected to either side of their blasted war and had _no business_ blowing up Divines.

“We need her, Cassandra,” an Orlesian voice murmured in a gentler tone. Isabela peered through her hair again, studying the second woman as she stepped into a cone of sunlight. She wondered whether her two captors had decided to play _Good Guard, Bad Guard_ ahead of time, or if they’d just been lucky.

Then with a start, she recognized the redhead. It had been ten years at least, but she’d always had a knack for faces.

She chuckled. “Well, well. Leliana. You do show up in the oddest places.”

The woman turned, a spark of confusion behind her steady gaze. Isabela met it easily, flipping her head back to clear some of the hair from her face.

Leliana took two steps forward. Her eyes widened.

“Isabela?” she asked, shocked.

“You know this woman?” the one named Cassandra asked. Leliana’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

“Oh, yes,” Isabela said, a smirk threatening to crack her dry lips. “Rather well, in fact.” She struggled against a shackle needlessly. “Though as I recall, last time we saw each other, _you_ were the one tied up.”

Leliana pressed her lips back together, her cheeks becoming slightly pink. She turned to Cassandra, who was glancing between them in confusion. “We met during the Blight,” she said without elaborating.

“So this is _not_ Evelyn Trevelyan?” Cassandra asked, sticking an outraged hand toward Isabela. Leliana shook her head, and Cassandra growled, stepping forward. “What else have you lied about?”

Isabela let out an amused breath. “Mmm. How much time do we have?” Cassandra’s eyes flashed.

“I do not think she’s responsible,” Leliana said quietly, touching the other woman’s shoulder.

“No?” Cassandra said. She grabbed Isabela’s left arm and yanked it into the air, causing her to yelp. “Then explain this!”

Isabela’s smile faded as she stared at her own hand with wide, horrified eyes. Under the grime, a thin green line ran along her palm, sparking with energy. Her whole hand suddenly seemed to be surrounded by a storm of emerald lightning.

“What the _fuck_?” she cried, trying to struggle backward.

“You pretend to be surprised?” Cassandra hissed. Isabela merely stared, at a loss for words.

“Cassandra,” Leliana said. “She is not pretending. _Clearly_ she didn’t know about it.” She flicked her eyes up Isabela’s body to her face. “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

“No, but I have a lot of nights like that,” Isabela replied, her voice not quite catching the dry tone she’d aimed for. She was still staring warily at her hand.

“Isabela,” Leliana said softly. “We just need information.”

She sighed, closing her eyes. “I remember…,” she began, trying to grab at what she could. It was like waking from a dream that did not want to linger. In wisps of a memory, she could see shadows hidden by darkness, could hear the thundering of steel boots. Of leather boots, as well. Her own. “Running. Something was chasing me.” What else was there? Glancing behind her shoulder, genuine fear in her throat when she saw the--

Horns. Her eyes flew open.

“No, that’s impossible,” she muttered to herself. _This far south?_ Not while the Imperium remained standing.

“What’s impossible?” Leliana asked.

Before she could answer, a new image came to her mind, a golden hand outstretched. “Wait. There was… a woman?”

“A woman,” Leliana repeated.

“She reached out to me, but…,” Isabela said, shaking her head. “That’s all.”

Cassandra and Leliana exchanged a look, an unspoken communication she could not quite read. “Go to the forward camp,” Cassandra said, the venom gone from her voice. “I will take her to the rift.”

Isabela licked her lips as she watched Leliana leave. At Cassandra’s curt nod, a soldier who’d been standing to the side began to undo her shackles, and she rubbed her freed wrists gratefully. She briefly considered telling the Seeker that if they were looking for someone who blew up religious institutions by rule, she might be able to offer at least one lead. On the other hand, a connection to Anders seemed like the wrong thing to mention right now.

“What _did_ happen?” she asked instead.

Cassandra hesitated. “It will be easier to show you.”

 

 

~

 

An hour later, Isabela was running up the side of a mountain _toward_ the gaping hole in the sky, two completely inferior daggers drawn at her sides. Cassandra had allowed her the weapons, noting that she should be able to defend herself, and it did not take long for Isabela to see why. So far they’d fought through three waves of demons, each more vicious as they got closer to what Cassandra called _‘the rift’_.

They’d also passed three separate opportunities for her to slip away. None of them were ideal, as there was snow on the ground, but she guessed that the chaos would hide her tracks easily. She would be gone so fast, the Seeker of Truth would not even know what hit her.

Isabela hadn’t taken them.

 _What is wrong with you_ ? she thought miserably as she pulled at the too-large shirt they'd given her. She felt like she was swimming in clothes. _Are you so eager to stay a prisoner of the Chantry?_

Well, that wasn’t quite fair.

For one, there was the painful, sparking scar on her hand, a mark that Cassandra seemed sure was the only one of its kind. The current theory was that it could be used to close the Breach, and while approaching something that spat out demons was not exactly Isabela’s first choice in activity, just _leaving_ it there wasn’t really an option either.

Secondly, Cassandra had hinted at the presence of a mage who could possibly calm the mark, maybe even remove it. He was the reason she wasn’t dead in the first place, apparently. She was rather happy about being alive and had no objection to meeting the man responsible for that small miracle, especially if he could make a repeat performance.

 _Still_ , she told herself, glancing at a fourth escape route.

“We are getting close to the rift,” Cassandra told her as they jogged. “You can hear the fighting.”

Isabela could indeed hear the clash of weapons, as well as the _fft_ of an ice spell landing.

Then there was a _thwack_ that sounded oddly familiar. Isabela frowned.

“Who’s fighting?” she asked over the noise.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Cassandra called back.

They crested the stairs to find that the bridge in front of them was destroyed, a six foot drop where the path should be. Flames still licked at debris on both sides. In the center was a mass of green light, almost too bright to look at. It crackled, and her left hand seemed to howl in response, breaking into a new round of sparks.

The rift, Isabela guessed as the woman beside her jumped.

She followed Cassandra, leaping gracefully off the wall. A handful of soldiers were battling with the demons and Isabela tensed, ready to join the fight. The _thwack_ sound to her right made her turn her head.

Isabela blew out a breath at the sight of the dwarf. “Well, fuck me,” she muttered.

He hadn’t noticed her yet, focused on the fight in front of him. In her Chantry clothes, she probably hardly looked like herself anyway. She turned her gaze back quickly to the shriek attacking Cassandra and pushed forward, sinking a dagger into its flesh. The shriek reeled back, giving Cassandra an opening for her sword, and then it fell, dissolving into dust.

“Quickly!” a new voice said. “Before more come through!” Thin, strong fingers gripped her left wrist. She reacted automatically, pulling away from the elf who’d grabbed her, but his grip tightened. He held her hand up towards the mass of light.

Her mark ached, as if it had split her palm opened, and then a light burst forth, flicking out like a whip. It sizzled as it hit the rift, the energy in her arm rising in intensity. The pain reached a peak and the tether broke, pushing her back. The rift snapped shut.

An eerie silence fell over the bridge, only the crackling of the fires disturbing the stillness. “What did you do?” she asked the elf.

“I did nothing,” he replied, clasping his hands in front of him. “The credit is yours.”

“That’s… interesting,” Isabela said, examining her palm.

The elf smiled. “Whatever magic opened the Breach also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized that it might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake -- and it seems I was correct.”

“Meaning,” Cassandra said, stepping around to face them, “it could also close the Breach itself.”

The elf nodded. “Possibly,” he said, his gaze turning back to Isabela. “It seems you are the key to our salvation.”

Isabela wondered briefly if ‘ _the key to their salvation’_ was a paid position.

“Good to know,” a gruff voice said cheerfully from behind her. “Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” Isabela felt her lips curl in amusement as she turned to face him. The humor died on Varric’s face, and his eyes went wide. He’d been in the process of throwing Bianca onto his back, but now he kept her handy, his eyes narrowing. “Rivaini?”

“Varric,” she replied, crossing her arms. “What’s a nice dwarf like you doing in a place like this?” He paused. His expression went from surprised to suspicious, but she noticed with relief that he finished putting Bianca away.

“ _You_ know the prisoner?” Cassandra said, her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Believe me,” Isabela said turning to face her, “I am as shocked as you are that I have so many friends with the Chantry.”

The elf chuckled. “Not all of us are with the Chantry,” he explained.

“ _That_ I can believe,” Isabela said dryly, looking back at Varric.

“What are you doing here?” the dwarf asked. Isabela held up her left hand, looking at him like he was an idiot, and he rolled his eyes. “No, I meant, what were you doing at the Conclave? As I recall, you weren’t the biggest fan of either mages _or_ templars.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Isabela said vaguely. “Mages can do this little spark thing with their fingers, you know. A girl could grow _quite_ fond of that. As for templars, well, I’ve always had a thing for skirts.” She leaned toward him, lowering her voice. "Easy access."

Varric was still studying her. “You had a mark, didn’t you?”

Cassandra’s mouth fell open. “A mark?” she asked, her hand going to her sword. “Are you some sort of assassin?”

“No,” Varric said. “She’s a thief.”

“ _Actually_ , she’s a _pirate admiral_ , thank you very much,” Isabela interjected. At Varric’s pointed look, she relented, adding, “Whose hobbies happen to include stealing things.” She held up both hands. “But I swear, this time it was for a good cause.”

“So you _did_ have a mark,” he said smugly. He looked at her, thinking. “What in the Void could you want with an old temple?” His eyes widened. “Wait a sec. _No_. The Urn?”

Isabela didn’t see the point in denying it. “Yes. Pity it went up with the rest of the place, if it was even there in the first place,” she said with a sigh. A thought struck her and she looked around at the soot on the ground. “I suppose I _could_ get a new one and sweep in some of _these_ ashes.” She felt eyes on her, and looked up to see that Cassandra was staring at her, horrified. “What? It wouldn’t be a lie, _technically_ . I mean, some of them _must_ belong to Andraste, right?”

“Rivaini,” Varric said darkly. “I thought the whole Qunari thing would’ve taught you a lesson about messing with fanatics.”

“The whole Qunari thing?” Cassandra repeated, blinking as understanding came to her eyes. She seemed to miss the other suggestion in his remark. “Then-- you are the Isabela who betrayed the Champion of Kirkwall.”

“ _Betrayed_ the _Champion of Kirkwall_ ?” Isabela asked with a smirk, squaring her shoulder back. “Ooh. That sounds _much_ more exciting.” Another look from Varric made her purse her lips. “Okay. Yes. Once upon a time, I lied to a man named _Hawke_ . He wasn’t Champion of anything back when _I_ knew him, though. I… left him in a bit of a bind, shall we say.” She made a dismissive noise, waving a hand. “But he wasn’t exactly a Revered Mother about everything, either. And all that was _years_ ago. Surely he’s over it by now.” She looked at Varric, who had crossed his arms. “Or… not?”

“Varric would not know,” Cassandra told her. “He is not in contact with the Champion at the moment.”

Isabela felt herself relax a fraction. “Well, _that’s_ the best news I’ve heard all day.”

“Pardon the interruption,” the elf said with a tilt of his head. “I believe we should move forward while the way is still clear. If we are lucky, there will be time for further discussion later.”

Cassandra nodded. “Solas is right. Come. We must reach the Temple.” She began to climb over the side of the broken bridge, stepping around the debris, and Isabela followed her. She turned her head back as they moved. “Regardless of your reasons for being here, you are the only person who can stop the Breach from enveloping the world.”

From behind her, Isabela heard Varric mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, “Andraste help us all.”

 

~

 

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Solas said.

“What’s left of it,” Varric added.

Cassandra looked up. “That is where you walked out of the Fade. The soldiers said there was a woman in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was, or why she was there.”

“It’s awfully _high_ ,” Isabela said after a moment. “How am I supposed to get up there?”

Solas followed her gaze, his jaw tight. “I would recommend positioning yourself as directly beneath the Breach as possible. The mark should do the rest.”

Isabela gave him a sidelong glance, frowning. “And--out of curiousity--what exactly are the odds that doing this will kill me?”

“Ravaini,” Varric warned.

“I'm not going to _run away_ , Varric,” she replied, exasperated. “ _My_ understanding is that I'll still die if I don't do this.”

“Well, forgive me for not having the greatest confidence in your understanding of actions and consequences.”

“Says the man who got trapped in the Deep Roads for three weeks,” she complained, turning back to Solas. “Well?”

“I do not know the odds.” The elf looked at her hand. “The mark itself should not kill you, at this point. However…” He hesitated. “You will need to open the Breach first, to seal it. Doing so may attract attention from the other side.”

“Demons,” Cassandra surmised. Solas nodded.

“I’ve seen Rivaini fight demons,” Varric said. He glanced her over. “I’ll wager five gold on her living, if anyone’s interested.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Cassandra said.

“I’m in,” Isabela said, still looking at the sky.

Varric raised his eyebrows. “ _Against_ you living? How does that even work? f you win, do I just throw five gold at your corpse?”

“Don’t bother,” Isabela said. “I’ll just feel safer if you have money riding on my survival.”

“Fair enough,” Varric replied.

“Enough,” Cassandra snapped. “You will not die.” She paused. “Probably.”

“How comforting,” Isabela said with a thin smile.

Cassandra ignored her. “The path is still intact. I suggest we make our way down before the Breach grows any--.” Before she could finish, Isabela gripped the stone wall in front of her and pulled herself up. Cassandra jerked her head up in surprise. “What are you--?”

Isabela leapt down a full story to the ground below, landing in a crouched position. She heard Cassandra swear above her as she stood, brushing off her too-large pants. Clenching her left hand, she walked to the center of what had once been a temple, her dark amber eyes fixed on the giant tear in the sky.

She breathed out. _The sooner you get this over with, the sooner they let you go_ , she reminded herself.

A booming voice stayed her hand. _“Somebody help me!_ ” a woman cried out in an Orlesian accent.

“ _What’s going on here?”_ Isabela heard her own voice respond.

Cassandra had jogged down the stairs and joined her, confusion on her face. “That was your voice. But--”

“ _Run while you can! Warn them!”_

The voices faded. Cassandra still looked at her, her eyes softer than they had been since they’d met. “Most Holy called out to _you_?”

“The Breach!” Solas called out, bringing them all back to the present. Isabela turned back to the sky,  raising her left hand. She held her breath.

“Be ready!” Cassandra warned the soldiers.

The energy thrummed through her veins again and the whip of light flicked out of her palm. The Breach seemed to expand, then fall open.

She saw a giant shadow appear in the light, a Pride Demon. It stepped forward, falling out of the sky.

Isabela leapt at it, her daggers drawn. The thing was too high for her to reach its neck, so she went for it's knees, trying to bring it down to level. Cassandra saw the strategy and immediately followed her lead, improving Isabela’s opinion of her immensely. She was fond of warriors who knew how to take point without speaking. Solas, Varric, and Leliana hung back, attacking with the ranged soldiers.

“Use your mark to weaken the Breach!” the elf called out to her. She pulled herself back from the fight and held her hand up again. The energy threw itself up, this time sharper and more electric, making her arm shiver with effort. When the Breach clapped into itself, the demon fell to its knees, and Cassandra went in for the kill. She shoved the point of her sword between its eyes.

The demon collapsed, dead.

Cassandra spun around. “Now! Close it!”

Isabela pulled her exhausted arm back up, yelping as the energy throbbed. Her veins burned with pain now, the Breach draining her. Darkness began to ring around her vision.

As the world narrowed to tiny pinpoints of light, Isabela felt herself stumble to the ground.

Her last conscious thought was, _Well, at least I win that damn bet._


	2. Chapter 2

****Isabela blinked twice at a wooden beams above her, unfamiliar fabric pressed tight against her skin. She sat up and rubbed one eye with the heel of her hand, trying to clear the bleariness.

 _Where am I_ ? she wondered.   _A bed._ That much was clear. But not one she recognized. The light was too bright, the air too clean. It even smelled like she’d been bathed in something other than saltwater, the scent floral and cloying, like the incense in the Kirkwall chantry.

“Oh!” a voice said, followed by a crash. Isabela’s eyes snapped to the young elf in the middle of the room, a wide-eyed servant who stared at her in shock. “You’re--. I’m--I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were awake. I swear!”

“Well,” Isabela said, blearily. “Mostly.”

She looked down and realized she was wearing entirely too much clothing. It was all some sort of delicate silk that would tear instantly in a fight. Which would be _provocative_ , but not exactly practical. Grimacing, she touched the right sleeve with her fingers. Her left palm caught her eye, and suddenly she began to remember where she was and why. The green glow had become more subtle, but it still glimmered at her, like when sunlight slanted through the eye of a storm. She studied it, then looked up at the elf.

“Since I’m not in shackles, I assume this… thing worked?”

The servant hesitated, then fell to her knees. “They say you saved us. The Breach…  it stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.”

Well, wasn’t _that_ good news. As far as Isabela was concerned, that meant she was no longer under any moral obligation to stay. She returned to examining her excessive clothing. Under the high buttoned collar of her shirt, she saw more material and nearly laughed at the undergarment they’d wrangled her chest into. She’d worn less material to a chantry than the breast band alone.

 _I look like I was dressed by a Revered Mother_. Given the circumstances, that was entirely within the realm of possibility. More likely a Seeker of Truth, though, if she had to guess. The thought of Cassandra seeing her naked did draw a chuckle from her. _Hope you liked the anchor_ , she thought to an imaginary Cassandra. Then she heard the servant say, ‘ _Seeker Pentaghast wants to see you_ ’ and she looked up sharply.

“What was that?” she asked.

“At once, she said,” the girl insisted. “In the chantry. At once!” The girl rose and fled, the door slamming behind her. Isabela winced at the sound.  

“Fuck,” she muttered, more annoyed than upset. Odds were that Seeker Pentaghast was still somewhere nearby, then, and they still wanted to speak with her. In Isabela’s experience, those sorts of interviews led nowhere good. If she was a betting woman--and she _was_ \--she’d say she had less than five minutes to escape before they sent someone looking for her.

She scrambled to her feet and glanced around the hut. She stripped off her shirt, settling on just the massive beige breast band and the pants. That gave her a little more range, she decided, rolling her shoulders. The daggers were resting on a chair, still not nearly sharp enough, but they’d have to do for now. Patting her back, she realized she had no scabbards. A quick search of the room revealed two long strips of leather that could be fashioned into something like a belt. It also uncovered some jewelry, seven sovereigns, and a flask of something that smelled Antivan but tasted Fereldan. She sputtered and almost spit it out, then realized beggars couldn’t be choosers and, with a shrug, took two more swigs before slipping it into her cleavage.

Isabela was careful to stay out of sight as she looked out each window. There was a crowd out the front door, and half of them had that damned Seeker symbol on their chest. That meant there were a lot of eyes-- _pun intended_ \--but she’d dealt with worse. The back window opened five feet from the wall, and while it wasn’t ideal, she could probably scale it easily. This place was built to withstand bandits and bears, not to stop pirates _inside_ from getting _out_. She’d be cold, but that’s what the flask of questionable liquor was for, she supposed.

Isabela found a light brown kerchief in the desk and tied her hair back. Then she placed each of her palms on the back windowsill and lifted herself up. These windows were smaller--more like portholes on a ship. Fortunately, Isabela had some experience with climbing out portholes. Seconds later, she landed, squatting in the soft snow with barely a _pat_.

 _Almost there_ , she thought to herself.  

“Well, well, well,” a voice to the left said, and she jumped, startled. She turned to see Varric, sitting on a crate, Bianca on his lap. “Rivaini. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Varric,” she replied. She didn’t bother keeping the disappointment from her voice.

“Going somewhere?”

She widened her eyes. “Oh, is this not the way to the chantry?” she asked innocently. “I _must_ be lost.”

Varric chuckled, shaking his head. “The more things change,” he quipped, standing. He went to her side and jerked his head northward, Bianca still an implied threat in his hands. “Come on, I’ll take you the back way. They’re waiting for you.” He gave her a sidelong look as they started to walk, their feet crunching in the snow. “You’re slipping, Rivani. I could tell you weren’t sticking around.”

“In my defense, I did what they asked me to do,” Isabela replied. “The girl said that my mark stopped the Breach.”

Varric waggled his free hand in the air. “Sort of. You stabilized the Breach. But you didn’t close it.” Isabela looked up to the sky and saw what Varric meant. The tear wasn’t as violent, but the green glow of the Fade was still visible through the crack in the sky.

“Well, _fuck._ ”

“Yeah,” Varric agreed, following her gaze.

“So, what, they want me to try again?” Isabela asked, annoyed.

“That’s what they say.”

She blew out a breath. “You do know what Antivans say the definition of _insanity_ is?”

“Chuckles says you just need more power,” Varric said, ignoring her comment.

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” she asked. “Spontaneously become a mage?” Varric made a right, waving Bianca at her, and she followed dutifully into the village. They emerged from the trees into an area set up with tents, in front of a large chantry. As people saw her, they began reacting, dropping their work and bowing, or just whispering in groups. Others approached until the path to the chantry was lined with people, staring at her. Some fell to their knees and began to pray.

“ _That’s the Herald of Andraste_ ,” one man told another. “ _She stopped the Breach from getting any bigger."_

 _“Herald of Andraste_ ,” another woman whispered as she kneeled.

“You’re gonna have to talk to the Seeker about the power thing,” Varric replied, but Isabela was barely listening, instead glancing around in confusion.

“Varric,” Isabela said in a low, worried voice. A man tried to reach forward and grab her hand. She recoiled, confused. “Why do I get the distinct impression there’s something you’re not telling me?”

Varric sighed. “Let’s just get you inside the chantry, alright?”

 

~

 

“Chain her,” the man called Roderick demanded the moment she entered the back room. Two guards moved to obey. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”

Isabela’s hands went to her daggers, but the Seeker spoke first.

“Disregard that, and leave us.”

The guards exchanged a glance, then saluted the Seeker and exited, closing the door behind them. Roderick gave her a furious look. Cassandra looked down at Varric and narrowed her eyes.

“You too,” she said. “Out.”

“All things considered, I think I’d better stay,” he replied.

Cassandra leaned forward, placing her hands on the table. “Isabela is not in danger from me, dwarf,” she said coldly. “We need her. She no longer requires your protection.”

Varric let out a genuine laugh at that. “Oh, I’m not here to _protect_ her, Seeker,” he said. “I’m here to make sure she doesn’t run away. Do you know where I found her? Climbing out her hut’s window, ready to scale the wall.”

Roderick looked outraged. “Do you see? She tried to flee the scene of the crime! She is clearly the guilty party!”

“I wouldn’t take it personally,” Varric told him. “I’m pretty sure Isabela would flee her own funeral.”

“I _tried_ ,” Isabela said, bitterly, her eyes darting to Roderick. “Unfortunately, there was some ginger dwarf with a crossbow, waiting outside my window.”

Cassandra stared at her, her face softening. “You will not be executed by us. This I promise you.”

Roderick’s brow went even lower. “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”

“The Breach is stable,” Cassandra said to him. “But it is still a threat. I will not ignore it. She is the only person who can help us.” She lifted her chin. “I heard the Divine at the temple. She called on Isabela for help.”

“From what we heard, someone Most Holy did _not_ suspect was behind the explosion,” Leliana said, her eyes hard and on Roderick.

He gaped at her. “Are you seriously suggesting _I’m_ a suspect?”

“You,” Leliana said. “And many others.”

Cassandra went to the desk at the back of the room and came back with a large book in her hands. “Do you know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine, granting us full authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your permission.”

Roderick snorted, looking disgusted. He shook his head, and strode out of the room, the door slamming behind him. Cassandra deflated, placing her hands on the table.

“Leliana,” she said. “You may as well bring the others in here.” As the Left Hand left, she pushed the large book toward Isabela. “Here. You should read it. It is the directive of the Divine herself.” She looked up, her eyes pleading with Isabela. “We must rebuild the Inquisition of old. With you at our side. Will you join us?”

Isabela narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms. “And what happens if I’d prefer not to?” she asked.

“Then you are free to go,” Cassandra said, straightening. “But be aware that many out there still believe you to be guilty.”

Isabela smirked. “Oh, I’m very good at being evasive.”

Varric broke in. “On the other hand, you’ve never been blamed for the death of the _Divine_ before.”

Isabela’s smile faded, allowing that to be true. Sighing, she toed the floor in thought. “ _Fine_ ,” she said after a moment. “I’ll join your damn Inquisition.”

Leliana returned with two people trailing her. Isabela recognized one immediately, her eyebrows rising. His amber eyes met hers, and then he looked away, a faint blush creeping over his cheeks.

Cassandra turned to them as they organized themselves around the table. “Allow me to introduce the council that will be running the Inquisition.” She held out a hand to Cullen. “May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

“Such as they are,” Cullen said.

“Commander?” Isabela said with a smirk. “That’s a step up from last time I saw you, Captain.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah--yes. So’s Admiral.”

“Oh,” Cassandra said, glancing between them. “Of course. You would know the Commander from Kirkwall.”

“In passing,” Isabela said innocently. Cullen looked relieved.

Cassandra moved on to the gorgeous woman standing next to him. “This is lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

“A pleasure,” Josephine said with a smile. “I’ve heard _so_ much about you.”

“Oh believe me,” Isabela said, leaning forward a little with a curling smile. “The pleasure is all mine.” Josephine swallowed, blinked, and looked down at her board. Isabela heard Varric snort beside her.

“And of course, you know Sister Leliana,” Cassandra continued quickly.

“Yes, we’ve established that,” Isabela murmured, leaning back. Her eyes flicked to Leliana, then back to Josephine. “In fact, Ambassador, I believe you’re the only member of the council who hasn’t seen my anchor tattoo.” She smiled. “Let me know if you’re ever interested in changing that.”

To her credit, Josephine only looked slightly fazed. “Oh!”

Cassandra took a moment to process what Isabela had said, then whipped her head around. “Commander Cullen?” she asked, her eyebrows climbing. He coughed and looked at the ground. Cassandra’s expression turned to shock and then disappointment. “I see. Well.” She looked at Isabela, her face hardening. “The Breach must remain our top priority. Solas believes that if we place more power behind the mark on your hand, you would be able to fully heal the Veil.”

Isabela sighed, crossing her arms. Time for business, then. “Last time, it knocked me out. Couldn’t it kill me if we do that?”

“Solas does not believe so,” Cassandra said.

Isabela quirked an eyebrow. “And we’re just going to trust him on that.”

“His theories have so far proven correct,” Cassandra explained. “He understands the mark better than anyone else.”

“We will need to approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana explained.

Cullen cut her off, having moved on from his embarrassment. “And I still say that the templars would work just as well.”

Josephine broke in. “Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition--and you, specifically. Some are calling _you_ \--a pirate--the Herald of Andraste. The remaining Clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.”

“Wait, just a moment,” Isabela said, holding up a hand. “They’re calling me the _what?”_

“The Herald of Andraste,” Josephine said. “What you did at the Breach has become public knowledge. People believe Andraste herself saved you to deliver us from evil.”

Isabela stared at them, and then let out a startled laugh. “They think Andraste _saved me?_ On purpose?”

“Correct,” Josephine said.

Isabela looked over the four solemn faces in front of her, and then down at Varric. “Surely none of _you_ believe that.”

There was a long pause. “The Maker works in mysterious ways,” Leliana finally said, clasping her hands in front of her. “People are desperate for a sign of hope, and for some, you are that sign.”

Isabela stared at the table. Sighing, she reached into her breastband and pulled out the flask, popping it open and taking a long swig. She realized Cassandra was staring at her, aghast, that Cullen’s face had gone bright red again, and that Josephine’s eyebrows were trying to join her hairline. Only Leliana’s expression remained neutral. Varric rolled his eyes.

She held out the flask to them. “Anyone else?” Leliana politely refused. She put it back into her cleavage. “Alright. So what do you need me to do?”

Leliana spoke while the others recovered. “A Chantry Cleric by the name Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

Isabela laughed. “So your plan to protect me from the Chantry is to send me straight to a Revered Mother.” She shook her head. “I mean. Obviously, it’s a trap.”

“I doubt it,” Leliana said, shaking her head. “From what I know her, she is a kind soul and not the sort to involve herself in violence. Go to the Hinterlands and speak with her. That will be the best start.”

“While you’re there, see if you can help the Inquisition gain influence,” Cullen said. “If we can turn public opinion around, we may be able to get the templars or mages to treat with us _without_ the Chantry.”

“You will need to bring Solas,” Leliana told her. “In case anything happens with your mark.”

Cassandra studied Isabela, then turned to the rest of the council. “I will go with them,” she decided. “We cannot trust her completely. Not yet.”

“Tactfully put, Cassandra,” Leliana murmured.

“If you’re going, I’m going,” Varric said.

Cassandra looked like she’d argue, but then darted a glance between him and Isabela. She seemed to come to a conclusion about which one she trusted more, and relented. “Very well,” she said. “Meeting adjourned.”

“Ugh,” Isabela said to Varric, rolling her eyes as the others filed out in front of them. “Four of us traipsing around, trying to help the mages or the templars and not piss off the Chantry. Varric, why am I getting flashbacks already? Not the fun kind.”

“And hopefully that’s where the comparisons end,” Varric told her seriously. They stared at the map on the table together for a second. Then he looked up. “On the bright side, there’s a tavern.”

“That,” Isabela said to him, “is the best news I’ve heard all day. I thought I’d be stuck with this flask of dog piss.” She shrugged at him. “Lead the way. Do you know if they have rum?”

“That they do.”

Isabela followed him out of the room. “Well! Maybe Andraste _is_ looking out for me after all,” she said dryly.

Varric laughed. “I’m pretty sure the rum’s from Josephine.”

“The cute Antivan? Ooh, tell me more.”

“Keep it in your pants, Rivaini,” he warned her. “You’re a religious symbol now.”

Isabela pouted. “Aw. And I remember when you used to be fun.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the game dialogue. I'll try to veer away from that in the future. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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